Winter in Achiltibuie is a marathon. If you were going for a sprint, you'd collapse by the end of November. Winter is one for the long haul with days, weeks, months as thick as porridge that feel like the year is going nowhere. But there are waymarkers. There are little signs that even the longest marathon comes to an end and, in the words of every child on every backseat immemorial, we are indeed "nearly there yet". Here are some of this week's waymarkers.
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